


Should Have Known

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream has a new recruit, all bright-eyed and ready to serve. Too bad he's in no condition to appreciate it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should Have Known

(or, Carrion’s Introduction to Starscream)

The directions given to him had been somewhat confusing, and when they led him to what was clearly the sick bay, he groaned. “This isn’t right,” he grumbled, stalking down the hallway toward the sound of beeping life-support.  He had some basic training as a medic, but getting cooped up in sickbay, treating a bunch of ungrateful scrap-heads who probably were better off just getting fragged was _not_ why he’d come here.

He almost jumped out of his armor when a smooth voice purred out at him from the shadows. “Are you lost,” it asked, sounding more amused by the concept than curious.

Turning, Carrion saw the vibrant red of another mech, a little taller than himself and smirking from where he stood. Between being annoyed at getting caught off guard or being amused, he could only offer a little laugh. “Ahh, not as such.” He said. “I was told to report to my Commander, and this is where they sent me.”

The red mech moved closer to him, optics flicking over his frame. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to approve of what he saw. “A new recruit, eh?” He said softly, voice smooth, claws folded behind his back as he stared at Carrion.

“Yes. I’m Carrion. I’m, uh…”

“Another _seeker,_ come to join the mighty Decepticons, yes,” the taller bot sighed, as if such a goal were something terribly regretful. His optics passed over Carrion’s frame again, shaking his head a bit as if to express what a waste it all was.

All in all, it made Carrion very uncomfortable, and he shifted slightly in place. “Ah, well, I do have some medical training, so maybe that’s why I was sent-”

The other shook his head more firmly, holding up a hand. “Oh, no. You’re in the right place. Come along.” Turning and walking away, he led Carrion down the hall and into the sick bay. Cheerfully, he strolled up to the only occupied berth, claws brushing over a cable running into the mech laying there. “Oh, Starscream,” he purred, “You have a visitor…”

When the figure neither moved nor even looked at him, Carrion stepped a little closer, curious. Tipping him a wink, the red mech gestured to the console on the wall. “He’s in an induced power-down state at the moment, you see.” He drawled. “Our Commander has a… habit of getting himself into just the _worst_ situations.” A claw traced the line of a large crack in the unconscious mech’s shoulder. Instead of the remorse his words might have suggested, the medic seemed still more amused than anything. “He’s a bit… _strong minded_ , as you may have heard by now.” 

Strong minded was one way to put it, Carrion supposed. From what he understood, Starscream was one of the deadliest Decepticon soldiers, out matched by the only mech that out-ranked him; he was beneath only Lord Megatron himself. He was also supposedly dangerously deceitful and, according to some, a legendary coward. Carrion had chosen to suspend his judgment, believing it better to see for himself than to take the words of some untethered scrap-heads at face value. And, being relatively young, he couldn’t see how, if the Air Commander were truly as treacherous and cowardly as some made him sound, he could even still be living.

 “I’ve heard,” He said after a moment, still not sure what to make of the brightly colored medic or his attitude. Being alone with him in this dim lighting with only the low sounds of the life-support system made him feel like a conspirator, not a new soldier or even a medic.

He was about to suggest finding a time to meet the Commander when he was actually active, but the flamboyant (and still unnamed) mech cut him off. “Of course, you _did say_ that you’re a trained medic, didn’t you?”

“Ah, yes, I have _some-_ ”

“Good,” the other intoned. “Our equipment is really just bigger versions of the basic tech, so it shouldn’t be _too_ difficult for you to manage.” A thin smile, more of a leer really, spread across the medic’s face; an expression that heightened the conspiratorial atmosphere. “Since you _were_ ordered to come here to speak to Starscream, I can take this opportunity to bring him back online. You can have your private little _seeker_ chat while I take care of some other… business.”

Carrion’s expression must have told enough about how he felt, because the other mech spoke up again quickly, his rumbling voice pitched low. “It’s all very simple. Only a few screens you’ll need to monitor during your talk, a few dials that may be adjusted. Nothing _to_ it. Consider it your first service to the Decepticon army.”

It still seemed like a terrible idea, made no less so by that leering grin, but phrased like that Carrion could hardly do anything but agree. He _wanted_ to be of service. He moved over by where the medic was standing, looking over the screens, figuring out the meanings of the images and how the controls worked. The other hadn’t been lying when he said it was all very basic; the tech was base enough for him to glean that Decepticons on Earth must not get wounded often enough to warrant updated medical equipment.

“Just flip that switch there,” the medic suggested, gesturing offhandedly as he passed behind the young jet. “I’ll be out, so try not to break anything. Oh,” Carrion’s claw hovered over the aforementioned switch, just shy of pressing it, as the doors to the sick bay hissed open. He glanced up to meet the other mech’s optics, still really not appreciating the smarmy grin on that face. “Do _not_ let him get up from that berth. As you can see, there’s still a lot of _work_ to be done on him.”

Yes, Carrion thought as the door hissed closed, there certainly seemed to be. Looking at the larger jet, it was clear someone had worked him over excessively, probably nearly pulverizing him offline. His armor was wrecked over much of his body, and one of his claws was actually missing digits. Indeed, aside from putting him in power-down, Carrion was hard pressed to determine what medical treatment- if any- had been afforded the Air Commander.

However, the sensors indicated that he was now in a stable condition, so with minimal hesitation, he flipped the switch.

With a soft shudder, there came subtle change in the rhythm of the machinery around them, a few previously dim screens brightening. Carrion kept his gaze on the equipment for a only a moment, optics quickly assuring him that everything was performing correctly, allowing him to focus his attention on the stricken seeker. He watched studiously as the optics flickered back from dead black to glowing red.

They didn’t seem as bright as Carrion imagined they should in the gloom, but then again the Air Commander was not well. Regardless of their luminescence, the young jet found himself fascinated by them, the color going through subtle pulses as the mech behind them attempted to focus. Through them, one of the most deadly beings in the galaxy, perhaps the universe, saw the world. It wasn’t until he realized that the other mech was tense with pain that he shoved himself away from the berth and toward the computers, pausing with his claws hovering above the keys.

Obviously Commander Starscream was in agony. It was the correct course of action to do what he could to alleviate that hurt… but he could only wonder why the equipment was set not to already deliver a pain-blocking signal. It was a simple string of code, and it generally made treating a mech much easier, to give them at least some relief. He knew, though, that some soldiers took too much pride in their durability to allow pain to be alleviated.

If that was the case, he very probably shouldn’t play with the set up. However, if the grinning, purring medic had simply let it slip his mind to initiate the code because the Commander was in power-down, then it would be equally wrong for him to not set up the signal.

A soft sound from the older jet gave him all he needed to make a decision. His claws clicked lightly against the keys, making a rapid choice to set the signal to a sixty-six-percent block. Judging by the Commanders appearance, even the third of the pain he was left to feel was a respectable amount.

He returned to the berth, feeling a little more secure in the room. It was just another medical wing. The mech on the table was definitely more than his typical patient, however. This time those dimmed red optics focused more easily on him, face contorting with confusion. “Knock Out,” the Commander rasped, his voice questioning and faint.

“No,” Carrion said after a second of processing. He assumed Knock Out to be name of the ship’s medic. “He stepped out.”

Despite being in obvious pain, the larger jet narrowed his eyes in a threatening glare, managing enough force to brighten them a little. He tried to sit up from the berth, his engine revving far too hard- hard enough that it registered red on the vitals screen- for so small a motion. After a long moment, he seemed to give up and lay back. “Who, then?”

Watching the other jet, Carrion couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. It wasn’t the Air Commander that made him feel so, but the whole situation. It seemed wrong for his first briefing to take place when his Commander was in such an incredibly weakened state. Still, he stood a little taller, at least trying to make his end of the conversation seem appropriate.

“My name is Carrion.” He said, trying with some success to push the nerves from his voice. “I was ordered to meet with you. They directed me here, despite your, ah, condition.” With a surprising show of delicacy (and self-control), he managed not to mention how crude it seemed to him.

“What,” the Commander growled, “would I want with a _medic_?”

Anything they could offer, at this point, the young jet thought. Looking down at Starscream, he fought with a smile, knowing even as he lost the battle that it was probably an impertinent look. It was rather impressive, at least to Carrion, how the other jet could make himself sound so menacing, despite being unable to stand. “I’m not a medic,” he said proudly. “I’m a seeker.”

Without warning, the larger jet’s arm snaked up, mutilated claws scratching across the surface of Carrion’s chest plate, seeking a place to grip. The gesture was quick, surprisingly so, but too weak to hurt or really accomplish their goal. Skating over the metal, they eventually found one of the places where the plates of armor met, and latched there, tugging. Considering the Commander’s condition, the amount of force he was able to use was surprising, but it wasn’t enough on its own to pull Carrion down. Understanding that as the desired result, Carrion complied, bending down to come nearly face to face with the older seeker.

In spite of being dimmed by injury, the optics searching over his face were vibrant, alive with brilliant intellect, calculating. Pulled this close, Carrion could hear the struggle of the Commander’s engine even as he lay still. It did uncomfortable things to his spark, because he couldn’t even comprehend the intense pain the other mech was in, much less what could be done to help him. No wonder he’d been in power-down.

At long last, he was pushed away with a low, accusatory snarl, “Sparkling.”

“No, Commander,” Carrion hastened to reply. “I’ve been trained for battle.” This was a lie, but barely. He’d been in his share of skirmishes, though more than half were against other Decepticons and all were informal. “I’ve taken an alt mode suitable for Earth, and I’m a great shot. I, I can be very useful.”

“Shut up,” Starscream grumbled. His glare was enough to ensure that the young jet actually did, despite the obvious fact that from this distance the Commander couldn’t clearly see him. After a moment, the glare shifted to something closer to suspicion. “You were told to report to me?”

Carrion nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The other let out a low rumble of a growl, muttering a single word under his breath. “Humiliating.”

Well that was hardly fair. And incredibly awkward. Carrion somewhat doubted he was intended to have heard it, or perhaps the Commander hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud. “Not at all, Commander,” He said after an uneasy silence, inclining his head in an attempt to show his deference. “Everyone gets wounded eventually, and I am honored to meet you under any circumstances.”

There was a long stretch of stillness, during which Carrion pretended to be studying the medical equipment but was really watching Starscream glare at him. Still it caught him off guard when the other spoke again.

“Get out.”

He turned quickly back toward the wounded mech, optics wide in a face openly expressing confusion. “Commander?”

Again a flare of willful brightness in those deep red optics, Starscream’s face twisting in anger. “I said _get out_!” He shouted, the volume jarring after his rasping mutters. Carrion impulsively took a step back. “Take your slag-spewing mouth and _get out!”_

Another rev of his engine, sending the vitals back into the red, as he tried once again to sit up. This time, he didn’t give up, even when something in the equipment began bleating a warning. Carrion saw the way he wavered, finally managing to sit up, and moved back to his side despite orders to do exactly the opposite. “Commander, please!” he said, ducking a claw that lashed out to shove him away. “Please, I’ll shut up. I swear it! You need medical attention.”

This time he wasn’t fast enough to duck, but it almost didn’t matter. Being struck hardly hurt at all, and when the Commander started to pitch sideways off the berth, Carrion was able to catch and steady him.

“I am _fine_ , imbecile,” Starscream growled, either completely disregarding the fact that he couldn’t even stand on his own, or speaking in irony. Carrion couldn’t be sure which.

“Please, just let me tend to some of this,” he begged, “I swear I’ll be silent.”

This time the silence was even more pronounced, Carrion doing his best to be absolutely still, while Starscream shuddered against him. Either in pain or with rage, Carrion couldn’t deduce, though he felt it probably a safe bet to say both played their parts. Finally the tension eased a little, the Commander easing back toward the berth. “Put me down, scrapling,” he ordered, though much of the venom had bled out.

Carefully, Carrion did as ordered, though his claws lingered until the larger jet was laying completely down again.  He was about to turn away when a barely familiar voice slunk towards them from the shadow.

“Am I interrupting,” Knock Out asked, his tone continuing to suggest that he found himself to be just the highest of comedic wit. Carrion’s claws jerked away from the other jet, the presence of the medic making him once again feel awkward, and now somehow guilty, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.

Stepping away from the berth, Carrion shook his head, consciously remaining silent as promised. Knock Out smoothly took his place, looking down at the Commander. “And how is the patient today?” Starscream glared at the vibrant automobile, saying nothing, which earned a low chuckle from the medic. “We’ll just put you back in power-down  then, hmm? Get some repairs finished.”

Carrion eased his way back toward the sick bay doors, prepared to leave when told to. He was obviously not required here, though what he was expected to do elsewhere he could only imagine. Watching the crimson mech move around, checking vitals and statistics, he figured it evident that with only one patient here, he wouldn’t be asked to stay.

“Knock Out,” Starscream growled when the medic leaned down to flip the switch that would return him to the power-down state. “I want him here when my repairs are finished.”

If the automobile was surprised by the orders, he didn’t show it. “Of course, Starscream.” Was all he said, before pressing down on the switch. The machinery gave a soft whir, several screens fading back down, and the medic turned to Carrion with another unsettling grin. “You must have made quite an impression on him,” he intoned. “Looks like you’ll be staying around.”

Ignoring the discomfort that seemed to fill him anytime he was faced with Knock Out’s undivided attention, Carrion allowed himself to smile back. “Looks like,” he said. 


End file.
